Niki Shisler

Heat Magazine are hardly known for their compassionate and non-judgemental reporting, but this week’s issue brought things to an all-time low. Stapled into the centre pages was a sheet of ‘humorous’ stickers that, among other things, asked Posh spice to “fucking smile” and called Britney Spears “mum of the year”. Nestled in between the pictures of topless ‘hunks’ and Heat catchphrases was a picture of Jordan's son Harvey, with the words "Harvey wants to eat me". Harvey is blind, autistic and has a rare metabolic disorder that means he is very big, clinically obese in fact. Jordan's referred to the horrendous health implications of his size many times. Combined with his profound learning disabilities, it makes him a much loved but nonetheless challenging child to care for.

On seeing the sticker, my first thought was a journalistic one. What on earth were they thinking? Did no-one in Heat’s office point out that mocking a severely disabled child might cause offence? Never mind ‘crossing a line’, this sticker effectively digs up the line, leaving a yawning chasm between Heat and any notion of decency.

My second thought was rather more personal. As the mother of a profoundly disabled, somewhat 'funny looking' child myself, it actually reduced me to tears. Hurt on behalf of my son as well as worrying about the effect on my 9 year old daughter when she (inevitably) sees the stickers on her friends' schoolbags. It played directly to some of my darkest fears for my son - that he will grow up to be lonely, an outcast and the butt of cruel jokes. I work hard to help the world see beyond my son’s disability; I write and talk about him often, revealing, I hope, the child behind the tubes and wheelchair. Seeing Heat’s sticker felt like a massive step backwards. “It doesn’t matter that this is a young child, look at his fat, hur hur hur!”

Some have argued that Harvey’s mother, Jordan, has regularly put her children into the public eye and has herself cracked jokes about him. And so what? I know from my own experience that black humour can be a saviour during difficult times. A loving mother throwing a little levity into a stressful life is a long step from a national magazine stating unambiguously that a child’s disability is funny. My son has nemaline myopathy which makes him profoundly weak. I might giggle about his unimaginably weedy impression of The Hulk because otherwise I’d probably cry. The truth, that my far from Hulk-like child will be dependent on a ventilator and wheelchair for the rest of his life, is just too heartbreaking. Even worse, unlike the usual targets of Heat’s ‘wit’, Harvey didn’t ask to be famous. Just because his mother is somewhat cavalier with his privacy, does that make him fair game? Of course not. Whether we approve of Jordan’s decision to open her life to scrutiny or not (and she has stated that much of her motive is to build a big enough fortune to guarantee that Harvey will have the very best care for life) it doesn’t mean it’s open season on her kids. Magazines, even air-headed ones like Heat, have responsibilities. This ill-considered sticker doesn’t only impact on Harvey; it’s another brick in the wall of prejudice that keeps people with disabilities isolated and alone.

November 2007